


To Play Pretend with Curiosity

by MarcarellaPizza



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Gen, Hasetsu, M/M, POV Third Person Omniscient
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 02:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20613275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcarellaPizza/pseuds/MarcarellaPizza
Summary: “You’ve drank too much.” Yuri decided, snatching the osake away, “You're piss drunk, so is your fucking husband, you’re spewing shit from your mouth when it should only be from your ass.”Intrigued? Piqued your interest? I hope you’re at least curious — may you find this small story... entertaining~





	To Play Pretend with Curiosity

**Author's Note:**

> This is a small idea I had in the middle of the night — I wasn’t entirely sure where this would go or if the concept was written very well, but this fic is free to open interpretation so I’d love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> ~Spoilers are in the tags I guess~

The ground is barren in the seaside town of Hasetsu — just as the seas which provided its sleepy town with food. It was not unkind towards the people who’d lived there, it treated each occupant with the love and respect that the person gave to the land, however it should be noted that while this peaceful life was well balanced, that had all been described in past tense. 

Hasetsu wasn’t just a place, it was a people, and it worked hard to protect what it was most fond of; especially from prying eyes. 

At the heart of the little town, beside the old ninja house and the markets down the road, where the paths are newer but still made of hand cut stone, there’s a small family who visit daily, an odd group of locals who’re well known. 

Katsuki Yuuri bows, tradition set deep in his bones, as he nudged his spouse, one not of the expectations his culture has set. The partner is a husband, who stands proud and tall, silver haired and blue eyed — a foreigner in this peaceful place. 

Viktor Nikiforov is not what Hasetsu is accustomed to, both in person and choice of marriage, but he’s kind and he’s beloved and so Hasetsu protects him as their own. 

Between the two wed, is their son by titular definition, blonde, youthful and arrogant. He too, is a clear distinction from blood and relation, but is welcomed despite brashness, for his bravery in acceptance of roots.

The three bow twice more as they stand hand in hand, to the right is a pillar, the end. 

“It’s stupid.” Yuri spits out, the child of the group, “There’s nothing more, we’re fucked.” He’s right, Hasetsu can’t give if it has nothing. The ground crumbles from disuse.

“We can’t leave.” Viktor reminds him, bitter and voice soft, “We’re trapped, there’s no way off… the fishing boats are in splinters at the bottom of the sea!” 

Yuuri stands upright, sighing as he gives up on the prayer he’d planned. Viktor’s right, Yuri’s right, he eyes the timer to the right and bites his lip. 

It’s moving, inching closer and closer to the bottom. Like an hourglass made of grey and white. He doesn’t know what will happen when the end has been met but it can’t possibly be good. 

“Why are we even praying?! Praying has done fucking shit!” The shrillness of his youthful voice carries across to the ghost of houses. He has a point, there is no use — prayers had not helped them then and it would not now. 

Yuuri bites his lip, the ceremonial kimono he wears shedding from his figure. It startles the two beside him, confused and condemned to be of help with no way of knowing what to do. This tradition had not been theirs’, it was the Japanese man’s that they adopted.

“There’s nothing left _ to _ do!” Yuuri wails, desperately pounding against the dried dirt. “We-we can’t leave, we can’t save anyone, we don’t even know what’s going on!” 

The sun blazes above them, a reminder of what had caused such a terrible fate. It had been five years of withering crops and poisoned fishes, and it’d been so long since the acidic waters had invaded. Most of Hasetsu had become one with the sea, and the smell of iron and death was in the air. 

“Well we gotta find a way out.” Yuri spits, a hand waving towards the deathly clock. It’s thin, a small insignificant line, and as the hours inch by, so does the greyed symbol, signifying the time left until.. _ something. _

“Why is this happening to us?!” Viktor wonders aloud, he too, shedding the kimono as his husband before him had. Yuri had been the only one to turn a nose up at the clothes, and remains dressed in outfit of choice.

Now dressed in plain apparels , fit for what they once used during their daily work, they abandon the town Center and retreat to the old onsen on the outskirts of Hasetsu. 

The hot springs no longer exist, it’s waters having vapourised in such heat, and the once merry family that’d lived there were long gone. 

Yuuri wept silently that day, having brought his own family to their graves, a sight he’d never thought he’d see so soon.

“In another world perhaps,” said Viktor, thoughtful as he dissected his morsel of food, “we would be happily free, not left to die in the husk of what was a beautiful seaside town, and we’d be living together elsewhere.”

“In your dreams old man.” Yuri spits, silverware clattering on the table. He’d not learnt how to use chopsticks and decided there’d be no point if they’d die sooner than anticipated. “And what’s with all this formal garbage you’re spitting out?” 

His parents by name, pause, eyeing him quizzically as the teenager jabs a bent fork in their direction. “Seriously, what’s with all your ‘perhaps in another world’ bullshit?! It’s fucking 2018, we aren’t in some medieval era!” 

“Well it’s fitting don’t you think?” Viktor says smug, somehow finding amusement in such a dire situation. “The world’s ending, we have no clue why, and it reminds me of an awful lot of back then with the Black Plague and all.”

Yuuri doesn’t say anything, nodding his head in somber agreement. Yuri becomes outraged, the sheer ridiculousness of it all distressing. 

“There’s a bloody timer outside, signifying the beginning of _ something, _ apparently always having been there and no one once gave it a look over, and you’re telling me you’re _ what_? Sitting on your ass, waiting for… for _ it _ to happen?!” 

Of course they don’t know what _ it _ is. As a people, they’d all sat and waited, praying it’d signify the end to all the misery and misfortune that befell them. Back then, they hadn’t even been sure anyone would be alive left to see what this anticipation was all about. 

So close yet so far were the last three. 

Yuuri takes a sip from his glass of osake, the only beverage they have left. It does no good to his health, but it’s certainly better than sickened water, so he drinks, and he drinks and he drinks.

Viktor watches with solemn acceptance, drinking his own liquor in silence, Yuri sips the juice they have left and had saved him, they don’t want stress for his liver just yet. 

“Maybe it’d be different.” Yuuri finally says, after consuming his fourth drink, “Maybe somewhere else then, I’d be drinking, reaching beyond tipsy I’d hope, and embarrassing myself in front of a room of esteemed guests.” 

He staggers in his place at the small table, empty aside the two he holds dear. “And maybe, wouldn’t it be funny Viktor, maybe that’s where we’d meet and I’d sweep you off your feet, we’d have a dance Yuri — And it’d be the best and simultaneously the worst decision of my life.” 

“You’ve drank too much.” Yuri decided, snatching the osake away, “You're piss drunk, so is your fucking husband, you’re spewing shit from your mouth when it should only be from your ass.” 

He leaves the room annoyed, uncaring towards the mumbled and giggly protests. Yuri decides to go outside once more, greet the shoreline that now reaches the inner town. He misses the sand and the beach, he misses the seagulls and the people, despite his original disgust with such things.

Hasetsu is on its way to being forgotten, and not a single person would be left.

Yuri trudges the dusk lit path back to the town’s centre; he doesn’t need to in order to see the odd timer, you could practically see the large thing from wherever you stood in Hasetsu but he goes there anyway for no reason he can conjure. 

It’s almost as if the motive was another being’s.

_ Something _ was causing the Giant Reminder to sink further, _ something _was causing it to signify an end or beginning. He remembered when he’d first saw it, like white noise in the background — he’d been uncaring towards this ticking time bomb just like the others. 

And then they’d been picked off, one by one, and now Yuri can see that with every bad omen comes the fall of this strange timer, that with every progressive note, the end of its count draws near.

Yuri tried to find something to distract himself with, patting pockets and feeling a lump. His phone is a useless brick in his jacket, there for a sense of reassurance and nothing more. Electricity had been broken the day the first rice crops wilted, and hadn’t returned since. 

“This is a fucking joke to you, isn’t it!” Yuri screams, staring straight towards something he can’t see. He shakes his head, disbelieving, but desperation does what desperation does best; it compels even the most stubborn minded to reach out to beyond.

He doesn’t know who he’s talking to, maybe someone, maybe a God? Or perhaps there really was no one there after all. Maybe this was all some big coincidence, the fish disappearing could well have been due to the change of tides.

Maybe the blackened waters were something else, even the deceased, and the dying vegetation, and the dirt and abandoned roads — there was no reason for something like this to be happening. 

It must be Gods, Gods who were cruel and sick. “Fuck off!” Yuri screams, voice trailing into an echo. No one greets his rude remarks but the air. 

“Please…” he sobs, astounded to how far lost he is, it’s as if he no longer even is who he was. “This isn’t me.” He agrees, tears falling. The ground soaks it up hungrily as they land. “I’m not some fucking weak ass shit!” 

He clenches his fists and stares at the timer, just peaking halfway to the end — had it always trailed this fast? Eyes wide, Yuri stands, rubbing his face tiredly as he blinks. _ What’s going to happen when it reaches the bottom? _

He doesn’t get an answer, it’d be too much of a spoiler if he did in any case, and there wouldn’t be much excitement in the whole moment if exposed.

“This is a sick game!” He yells, this time directing his voice upwards, eyes gleaming with tears he gave no consent in shedding. “What did we do?!”

The answer is they did nothing, but Yuri does not know this, and so he angrily sits stubbornly and yells about more. “The Gods are cruel.” He decides, forced to believe nothing but that as an explanation, “Do you enjoy this?! Like seeing our pain?! Is this what you get off too you sick fucks?!” 

The irony there is that he appears far closer to understanding than anyone.

By the time night blankets the ruined seaside town, Yuri gives, retreating to what’s left of his home. The counter is still ticking, like a bomb about to explode, but he can’t care anymore because he realises there is nothing left to do.

Yuuri and Viktor watch him return, slamming his bedroom door shut with a crash. They sigh, saddened but content, as Viktor bends at the knees to scoop his husband up in his arms. 

“I wish we had more time Yuuri.” He says softly, walking across the threshold to their shared room. He places Yuuri gently on the mattress, kissing his forehead as he joins him, the dip of the bedding following. 

“There will never be enough time Vitya.” Yuuri whispers, capturing Viktor’s lips with his own. It’s a dance they both tango, and as tongues meet and depart, tears cascade down both lover’s cheeks.

“You remember our promise?” Yuuri breaks off their kiss, nose brushing against nose as he murmurs. “Until death do us part Vitya. Thank you for loving me, I love you.” 

“I-it’s not fair.” Viktor bites his lip, fingers delicately tracing patterns on exposed flesh. “I don’t want to stop loving you, I don’t want to be alone.” 

“I’ll be right here.” Yuuri consoles him, arms wrapping around Viktor’s neck as he draws him closer. He peppers soft kisses to his lips, words mumbled between exchanges of bond. “Until the end.” He hushes, and Viktor lowers himself, arms wrapping around his husband’s waist, as they clash together, skin to skin. 

“With all my heart I love you.” Viktor says, thumb caressing flushed cheeks. “I love you so, so much Yuuri. Thank you for letting me love you.”

And with morning’s dawn, passion gives way to a good hurt, leaving the two to sit up slowly with fond smiles. “I love you Vitya.” Yuuri says, for the hundredth time like it’s his last, and Viktor draws him closer to his beating chest.

The new day means another spared, and when the three return to the town center, they look knowingly at the Reminder. They’ll probably be long dead before they ever find out what it’s for.

This time, as the days draw to a close, the air thickens with a smog impenetrable, skylight disappearing as the starlight had done so months ago.

It’s a reminder that the world isn’t so pretty anymore, that these are the consequences to _ something _. Viktor wraps an arm around his husband, spinning around to plant a kiss on plush lips.

“This is fucked up.” Yuri says, huffing as he breaks the spell, he’s not staring at the two beside him but rather the timer. “Who gets to say when and where’s happening? Who decides that?!”

“No one…” Yuuri answers plainly, confused, “Fate chooses as Fate desires.”

“Well Fate is a fucked up asshole.” Yuri scolds, eyes brimming with more tears. “Stop making me cry like a pathetic wimp Fate!”

“I don’t think fate is a person Yura.” Viktor sighs, “Because if so then surely they’d help us.”

“Not unless they get a kick out of our misfortune.” Yuri grumbles, arms crossed, “And I’m almost sure they do!”

“Fate is just a concept.” Yuuri frowns, head resting on Viktor’s shoulder, he seems content if it weren’t for the precarious situation they were in.

“Nothing makes any goddamn sense!” Yuri yells, “We aren’t supposed to be here, we aren’t supposed to be… acting like this! We don’t even know what that _ thing _ is for! Am I the _ only self aware _person here?!”

“We’re all self aware.” Viktor says confused, “We just accept that this… reminder, may perhaps be the end of the world.” 

It’s rather funny to watch children in their confusion, some blabbing nonsense while others reach silly conclusions. “WE DON’T EVEN KNOW THAT YET! What if it's when this all stops?!” There’s a truth to what Yuri says, but perhaps that’s all that he’d ever know — the timer was reaching its final straw.

“I’m not some source of entertainment.” He says dumbly, darkness swallowing the daylight whole. It feels hard to breathe suddenly, and the air swirls around him like a tarp.

“Yuri!” His family screams, but it’s drowned out by the static white noise. It’s almost as if he can see something they cannot, a figure with a bright glowing light surrounding them like a halo. To the rest of the world, everything is just as broken as it was before.

Yuuri and Viktor rush to the child’s limp state, shaking him desperately with cries. There is no response however, and the world continues to break further, Hasetsu letting itself be swallowed by more sea.

The reality of the situation doesn’t hit so hard, in fact it merely washes over the last two people left of Hasetsu, like a dazed dream of acceptance.

“This really is some twisted game.” Yuuri suddenly sobs, turning to cry into his husband’s arms. “This must be something the Gods enjoy, something they like. Why else would this be happening Vitya? We’re pawns to their entertainment!”

“Yuuri, I’m so sorry.” Viktor cries, but there’s nothing he can truly be sorry for. He clings tighter to Yuuri, he doesn’t want to let go, and so he presses a chaste kiss to soft lips. It’s a final one and they both know it deep down.

They watch as the countdown slows to a stop, they can practically see it reaching the conclusion they dread. Nothing appears different, they can’t tell for sure what will happen once finished, but there must be more, they can’t simply trust what they’ve been led to believe — who had even planted that fear in their heads in the first place?

They clasp hands tightly and the weather lets up a little, almost a sign that if there truly were Gods, their affections have been doing great service. It’s almost like an internal battle between _ hundreds of Gods, _each one conflicted on how they wish to see the couple’s fate.

And like that, Yuuri’s eyes widen, an understanding of something so sick, so cruel, it’s realisation _ had _ to have been intentional. 

Something not of Gods but human nature — where people like pretending to _ play _ God.

Except the revelation is too late, to early? Or perhaps it was what caused it, still, the timer finally embraces its end and it’s _wrong_ _and right _and a contradiction of what could only have been expected.

There’s _ nothing _ and yet _ everything _ all at once. There’s a conclusion, the same one that Yuri and Yuuri had come to learn, one that Viktor would eventually too. But it’s just out of reach, the answer to the deaths, the pain and sorrow, that feeble Pillar of a Reminder for an Unknown; _ those _ answers are just beyond something _ more _—

You’ll never know though; even Gods have their limitations.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for Reading! :D
> 
> I’m happy to answer questions, the ending is rather ambiguous, and I’m still not sure or confident that the way I approached the whole concept was the best way necessarily, but hey, I gave it a crack.
> 
> Writing isn’t exactly my forte — it’s art but ah well, felt the need to contribute!


End file.
